In This Moment
by Safely Away
Summary: Kristoff cannot get enough of his newborn daughter. One-shot.


_A/N Because my love for Frozen is insatiable _

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Kristoff Bjorgman was no sap.

He was a burly mountain man, as rough and musky as they come; all calloused hands and bug infested hair. Frayed burlap clothing and torn shoes and tattered scarves.

Far from a sap indeed.

But he cried when his daughter was born.

And angry, red, wailing, _beautiful _little thing; she could have fit in one of his hands, she was so small. The midwife handed her to Anna and her own tears cascaded down her cheeks, supplanted from exertion.

Kristoff had gently untied Anna's dress at her chest and was fascinated at the child latched upon her breast, suckling away.

No, his big man resolve was no match for the love that he had for his daughter. And Kristoff couldn't recall a time when he was ever happier than that moment.

And this one, nearly two weeks later.

He sits in their bed chamber in the bed he shares with a sleeping Anna, exhausted that only comes with the responsibility of being a mother. And doesn't she look dapper with drool slipping past her lips and spit up on her shoulder.

Kristoff smiled at her leaning against the plethora of pillows on the bed and cradled the sleeping baby to his chest.

She was still so tiny after a few weeks but that was supposed to be expected and Kristoff briefly wondered how he'd been this small once.

He pressed a subtle kiss to the top of her head, her downy gold-spun hairs tickled his lips like fuzz and he inhaled her scent. A whiff of the baby salve Gerda had gifted them when Brynn's wails would persist into the night – or morning – at ungodly hours, freshly sewn cotton, purity, innocence, and just _baby. _

Bryn stirred in her slumber.

Kristoff's heart swelled.

She was clad in a blue linen cloth, little booties on her feet. She was the epitome of adorable.

One of his large fingers eased into her little ones and once again Kristoff marveled at how small his daughter was. How vulnerable she was to Arendale, to the world. A helpless tiny thing. Kristoff suddenly clutched her to his chest tighter. He would make sure she was always safe. Always in reach so he could save her.

That's what a father did, right?

Kristoff felt Brynn fuss her head in his chest, mewling lightly and shifted her into the crook of his shoulder and elbow and a grin split into his face.

"Hey, precious," he whispered.

The baby opened her eyes in slits at first then widened them, blue orbs so transfixed on that of her father's. Just staring like only an infant would.

It takes him back to the way she looked at Elsa in the beginning. A gurgle of indignation indicated this.

At first, Elsa was terrified at even the prospect of holding her sister's baby; too consumed with the ever present fear that always lingered at the back of her mind.

_I don't want to hurt her_ she had brokenly whispered. She didn't want to hurt her like she had hurt her sister, like she had hurt Arendelle.

Despite eager exclamations of reassurance, she remained hesitant, secluded in her own uncertainties.

_Just give her some time_ Kristoff consoled Anna.

And after a week, when Anna had subtly confronted her sister, she lightly slipped Brynn into her cool hands. And Elsa had cried in awe, gushing with apologies that for once did not correspond to her regality and reserved ways. Anna cried along with her.

It was a good day in Arendelle.

As was today.

Anna snorted in her sleep, briefly but long enough to startle the child into getting her attention. Kristoff chuckled lowly, nodding over at his wife.

"That sleeping beauty over there," he began. "Is your mother."

The baby gurgled and he took that as a sign to continue.

"She's clumsy sometimes," he snorted. "Actually, most times. And she's loud and awkward and very _very_ weird." Kristoff looked down at his daughter. "But she's fierce. And determined and brave and loyal and loving and all around _beautiful_ in every way."

Brynn yawned, an adorable little yawn that made Kristoff's heart flutter.

Yes. _Flutter._

"And she loves you, just like I do," he breathed.

The baby merely blinked but at this age there was really only so much she could actually do. He remembers a couple of days after she was born and Olaf and Sven staring at her disinterestedly.

_Oh isn't she just darling! _Olaf had cooed _umm…what she do exactly…?_

Kristoff had told him that she poops, eats, and sleeps and Sven had this look of sheer disbelief that had clearly displayed his evident confusion as to why anyone would want to waste their time with something so boring in the first place.

_When you have your own, you'll understand buddy _Kristoff said.

He noticed the tiny bundle getting drowsier by each second so he began to carefully rock his arms in which she lay. Of course, putting her down in her decadent in velvet, rich, _expensive _bassinet would have been more convenient, but Kristoff couldn't bear to part with her, to let her go just this second. There would be other times where she could lay down in her crib, like tonight. But right now, they had this moment. And who really knew when another moment like this would come again. When within the castle, all seemed to be at a standstill; quiet and serene – and when exactly did Kristoff begin to use words like _serene_? See? This is what living with royalty did to him. But nevertheless, the only thing that mattered was this moment.

What with the whole eternal-winter thing still looming over their heads, still not forgotten but coping. There was no telling when a day might be one's last, so they had to make the best of what they could, how they could, when they could.

Brynn buried her head to the side of Kristoff's elbow and he placed a gentle hand on her belly to steady her as her eyes steadily continued to droop.

In the back of his mind, Kristoff briefly pondered if his father hand held him like this. Close to him. Warm and safe and secure and _his._ He was too young when his parents had died to know anything like the sort or even remember specific times with them. Only brief, fleeting sensatory glimpses of his past smells, sounds and the like. And other things but he doesn't know if they actually happened or they were just dreams, good thoughts that had eventually made their way to his subconscious through practice as a young boy who longed for nothing more than a mother and a father.

Kristoff choked back the emotion that threatened to rise up out of his throat.

Resting his gaze back down to his baby girl, he remembered a song, as old as Arendelle, he had heard once. And of course it wasn't like him to sing other than the folly melodies he sang with Sven.

But love changes you, he'd quickly learned. First with Anna, then with Brynn. And this tough, manly, ice harvester exterior he had built up around him had been shattered with its abundance. And, okay, fine he _was_ a sap.

Kristoff started soft and low…

_My love is like a red, red rose_

_That's newly spring in June_

_My love is like the melody _

_That's sweetly played in tune _

_As fair get thou, my bonnie lass, _

_So deep in love am I_

_And I will love thee still, my dear,_

_Till all the seas gang dry_

He vaguely recollects how popular this song still was in the town within the mountainous terrain. Heartfelt and skimming the lines of sappy- there was that word again- it was a tune telling of how much his sweetheart meant to him. And how he'd love her no matter what would happen.

_Till all the seas gang dry, my dear_

_And the rocks melt with the sun_

_And I will love thee still, my dear_

_While the sands o' life shall run_

_And fare thee well, my only love,_

_And fare the well a while_

_And I will come again my love_

_Thou t'were ten thousand mile_

By the time Kristoff finished his melody, dazed in his love for his daughter, he hadn't noticed his wife sit up beside him.

"That was lovely," she said softly, starting him out of his stupor.

Color rose to his cheeks from the base of his collarbone as Anna snuggled up beside him, his other arm moving to pull her closer. Craning his head to place a kiss on Anna's head, he brushed away the stray hairs that escaped her signature two braids.

"_You're_ lovely," Kristoff whispered to Anna and broadening the goofy smile they both shared. Anna pecked Kristoff on the lips and gazed down at Brynn in what could only be described in admiration.

"_She's _lovely," she hummed, gingerly patting her head. "You know, we make incredibly beautiful babies."

Kristoff chuckled. "Yeah, good work." He grinned roguishly and Anna blushed. Brynn wasn't planned, not at all. In fact, she was conceived on a night where fury fueled the passion that ultimately created their baby.

"Except for that nose," Anna frowned.

Kristoff mimicked her, frowning profusely. "What's wrong with her nose?" According to him, everything about his daughter was perfect from the birthmark on her back to the pink of her toes. She was the most beautiful baby he'd ever lay eyes on.

Anna mockingly groaned. "It's…It's just _your _nose." She stifled a chuckle and disguised it as a cough when Kristoff grabbed his nose in horror; it was mortifying to think that he had ruined their perfect daughter.

Anna couldn't bear it any longer and let out an interesting cacophony –something that sounded like a cross between a snort and a gasp –but whatever it was, it was most definitely _not_ ladylike, followed by a splurge of laughter.

"Kidding," Anna hummed in between her fits of laughter.

Kristoff removed his hand and used it to jab her in the sides inducing a squawk of surprise from Anna.

They came down from their blissful high and simultaneously directed their attention at the miracle they had created.

All the sentiment was making Kristoff soft – well that and the soap that always seemed to smell like the petunias Olaf was so fond of- but he figured it was okay. It was Anna who broke him out of his thoughts.

"You know," she began, her voice uncharacteristically troubled and small. "Sometimes I wonder if we'll always be there for her."

That fear was completely understandable, with both of their parents dying at early ages, there were still uncertainties that no one could completely reassure. Scars that no one could completely heal from that pain that stood in place of the future. No one could possibly know what the future held.

Anna looked away.

Kristoff gently touched a hand to her cheek, turning her to face him. "Hey," he said softly. "We _will_ be there for her, no matter what." He referred to the song he had previously sung.

"But you don't know that for sure," she retorted.

"No," he responded after a moment. "But we'll do our best. And we'll live in moments like these. Moments where it's just you and me and her together."

That could have quite possibly been the most sappiest thing he'd said in his life.

Anna smiled with misty eyes. "I love you, sap," she said.

_Oh god… he knew it._

"And I love you more, fiestypants," he said.

And they kissed. A kiss not of lust and need and want- because there would be plenty of time for that later. But a kiss of longing and admiration and pure love. Of promise.

When they separated, their eyes went to Brynn who still slept in her father's arms that was too-big for her too-small body. Smacking her lips in the way newborns do.

And Kristoff thought never in his life that he would wind up living in a castle, married to a beautiful-awkward-perfect girl with a daughter he loved so much, it was almost indescribable. Never would he have thought they would be the picturesque family- you know, minus the talking snowman and the in-law who could freeze summer.

"And we love you too, precious," he whispered to his baby girl who lay sound asleep.

XXX

Later that night, when the sun finally set between the mountains with an array of pinks and yellows to a stark black and the moon shone high, iridescent and illuminating by the aurora lights, Kristoff and Anna laid their daughter in her crib and returned to their own slumber filled with hurried touches and chaste kisses so as not to wake their daughter.

And after all was still and all was quiet in Arendelle as the firstborn daughter of the Princess and the Ice Harvester slept peacefully in a blissful hue.

And in this moment, all was good.

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_A/N The song used in this story is called "My love is like a red, red rose" by Robert Burns_

_Thanks bunches for reading :)_


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